“Rashi, can you and Tarini block print another ten bags, Meenakshi needs them by the 12th…”
This message from Aditi, who spearheads community initiatives in our colony, popped up on a Friday afternoon in the middle of yet another webex call. The weekend ahead was chock full with chores. No I couldn’t add block printing ten bags to my already crammed list! My immediate answer was a polite no, it would not be possible sorry Aditi. I thought I had set the matter to rest there, deleting the message with a flourish.
But it was not meant to be that way. Tarini saw the response to my message and immediately knew I had let an important opportunity pass. She likes being involved in community activities, and to the extent I can, I try and involve her and myself.
What followed was a Friday afternoon lost in a cloud of smoke, if I could put it that way. She had her way and the next day we collected the bags to be painted. Arranged to get the block seals back from Amita Aunty who had kindly taught us this art. Managed to complete all ten bags by Saturday noon, amongst sundry other activities including getting 1.5 years of pending work done by the carpenter.
But in case you’re wondering what exactly this post is about, it isn’t about the beautiful art of block printing nor about community work. It’s about the lady who wanted these bags (to give her Prasad in, a wonderful idea) and how I discovered over the phone call to decide how to deliver the bags, that she had a long long association with my parents. My mom had been her daughter’s first doctor when she had landed in Delhi and my dad had fixed a badly broken arm. She almost begged that my mom come over to see the Puja she had kept in her house, even if for five minutes. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and even Amita Aunty had turned out to be my mom’s former patient.
We made our way to deliver the bags. It was an experience seeing the lovely and intricately decorated “Golu Puja” at Meenakshi’s house and we came back showered with gifts and blessings.
My point about writing this post is one, that I should perhaps not be too quick to say no. Had Tarini not forced me to do this, I may never have met Meenakshi nor discovered the connection she shares with us.
Two, very near my parents’ 51st wedding anniversary and my dad’s 79th birthday which went by this 11 October I also want to convey to my parents that I’m proud to be called their daughter.
Their lives, lived with grace and dignity, above all with honesty, may not have taken them to the pinnacle of success measured in the conventional way. But if success is a life lived for others, serving and helping them in every way, they reached way beyond. I have a rich legacy to carry forward, as you see. 😊
Lavendermistwithglitter 